The Unexpected Partner (JULY 2021 MULTI-CHAP UPDATE)

Chapter 9 - It's Her

(A/N: Unless it wasn't clear as you read, this is Danté's perspective of the class from chap. 7. Happy reading!!!)

***

He knew.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he knew.

He wasn't sure whether it was the air of familiarity she had first brought with her when she moved across the laminated floors, the enrapturing movement of her body that had him uncharacteristically staring, even with the simplest of motions, or if it was the subdued intensity of her brown eyes that used to invade his dreams for weeks, months on end.

***

She wasn't in any of the pictures that were taken that night. If it wasn't for Xiomara's insistence that she wasn't drunk when she saw them dancing, as well as confirmation from other friends that night, as he never took her for her word most of the time, Danté would have thought that she was a figment of his imagination.

The sheer freedom he felt when he was dancing with her was unmatched in his lifetime; dare he say it, he felt a strange sense of happiness. As they danced, a story was written - one he wanted to get to the end of. He was always able to manage his emotions; maybe that's what made him an easy target in the past. He didn't speak much, never defended himself like he did others and those same people stabbed him in the back and hurt the only people he loved. From then on, he chose himself, always. Yet, she made him want to give something of himself he didn't realise still existed.

A piece of his heart?

He wasn't too sure. It seemed too soon to conclude and the cynic in him cackled internally at the suggestion. He was seen as cold-hearted, stern and, on most occasions, downright rude. Ironically, those same people usually wanted something from him, and when he refused, their true colours always showed. Well, that was how he surmised most of his interactions with the wider world.

One thing Danté could admit is that his opinion became predisposed to negative thoughts and impressions. People will always want something from you so make sure they don't even get the idea to approach you. Thus, his reputation bore the internal scars of someone tired of being used and abused, but the external image of a lone wolf traversing the stilted and uneven path that rarely crossed over from solitude, rarely welcomed happiness, no longer recognised love.

He was a tortured soul.

He could no longer distinguish between people with good intentions and those without. Too much had happened for him to focus on the good that people could represent.

Yet, he never lost his connection to dance. Part of him still didn't understand why he derived so much enjoyment from it until he took the time to really think about what it meant to him - what it truly signified.

It reminded him of home. It reminded him of family. His family. His mother.

Whenever he listened to the music, whenever he danced along, in the end, he ended up a little less angry at the world, a little less cold, had less control over what he felt and what he showed. It released the self-deprecating bonds he wrapped around himself, to contain the hurt, amplify it, use the pain from it to always remember the wrongs that he had been dealt and remind himself to never fall victim to it again.

No matter what it took.

Xiomara was the only one he managed to let in after all those years of solitude. He found comradery with her that he couldn't find anywhere else. It was unnerving but something he didn't realise he needed. Throughout all he had suffered, the effects of which clear on his young face, she was the only one who approached him.